Chapter Three: Deciding a Future

Setting: Redwall Abbey, Cavern Hole; early afternoon.

After lunch, the Abbot made his way to Cavern Hole, reflecting on what this meeting would be about. Would the baby fox be allowed to stay? As he passed it, the hedgehog looked up at the giant tapestry of Martin the Warrior. It was something to be admired; many paws had been taken to sew the gigantic portrait. Over so many eons of time, the fabric had faded, but never to the point of noticing. You had to get extremely close to see the tiniest hint at the age of the fabric. As it did to so many, the tapestry seemed to warm him, to ready him for the oncoming challenge. The confident look in the warrior's eyes as vermin ran in every direction from him, the nonchalant posture as he leaned on his sword, everything pointed to a happy ending. And that was what the Abbot wanted to happen.

He let out a heavy exhale and walked into the small room. As the hedgehog was the first in there, he lit the fire and sat down in his chair. It was made of a heavy purple satin, comfortable enough to sit in, yet not so much as to fall asleep in. It withheld memories of long gatherings of war, of great leaders as well as ones who weren't as well equipped for the position. The whole room held these memories, the old sandstone walls, chipped in places, cracked in others spoke of a troubled, yet triumphant past. Abbot Song kept in a shudder; partially because of the cold, but also because of a sense of foreboding, excitement at what would soon begin.

The first entries were Skipper and the two otters. As the only witnesses to the previous night's incident, they had to be there. The Abbot nodded his head to them and waved his hand, gesturing for them to sit down. Skipper took a wooden seat straight across from the hedgehog; straight backed and uncomfortable; suiting his personality quite well. It wasn't like him to be comfortable when there was an important subject at hand. The other two otters took whatever seats they could take. The scarred one, Ruddtail, had a bandage over the upper right side of his face, blocking off his eye. His face was set in a frown; the otter wasn't in a good mood. Abbot Song could only assume it was because he only had one eye to work with. The second otter, Ruddtail's brother Planktail, was smiling slightly, looking around and taking in all of his surroundings; he had obviously never been in Cavern Hole before. The Abbot smiled at them.

"Welcome. As soon as the others arrive, we can get started."

Soon after the otters, two mice walked in the room, nodding greetings to everyone in attendance and taking seats in large fluffy chairs. One was young, nearing her nineteenth season. She was wearing a long dress, patterns of flowers and roses swirling their way up it to her neckline, where it cut off neatly. She glided along almost as if she wasn't truly moving, but instead floating just above the floor. She slid her way into a chair and faced the rest of the group. Sister Rosemary was one of the true powers inside of the Abbey. The Abbot respected her opinion on any subject, for she was wise beyond her seasons. Her voice ran like water flowing, never missing a beat, but instead a constant movement, as if stopping wasn't needed. All-in-all, she could convince an adder to give up it's teeth for no reward.

"Good afternoon father abbot, Skipper, Ruddtail, Planktail. It is a pleasure to see you all here."

The other mouse, sister Alma, was much more aged. She was grey, nearing her sixtieth season, and shakily made her way to her chair, which she plopped down in heavily. She wore glasses on the edge of her hooked nose, and wore a deep violet dress that seemed almost bigger than she was. She wasn't much of a conversationalist, and had a bit of a short temper, as her pursed lips showed. They parted as she spoke her greeting.

"Yes, hello to you all. Well, Abbot Song, what have you called us here for today?"

The Abbot stood up, hearing his quills pop out from the holes they had made in the chair. He winced and forced himself not to turn around and look at the damage, but instead to address the small group that signified the current power of his Abbey. This was his council, and surely they would stand behind him in this matter.

"Welcome everybody. This meeting has been called to address a bit of a situation we have had. Last night, Ruddtail and Planktail here," he gestured to the otters, who nodded as their names were called, "found a small camp that two foxes, a male and female, had made. From what they have told me, I have assumed that they felt threatened by the male, who called himself Deathclaw, and were forced to kill him. After which they, and correct me if I'm mistaken, sneaked back around and found the camp, hoping to catch the other fox by suprise, so that they could possibly have a non-violent confrontation with her. Ruddtail, could you carry on from here?"

Ruddtail stood up, looking dizzy for a second, then continued.

"Aye, I can continue. After we killed the first fox, we went back around to the camp. Then we heard a scream from the forest, and the second fox, a blonde vixen, came back. We tried to tell her to leave, but she attacked us, for fear of us hurting her kit I guess. Sadly, she is dead as well."

The otter quickly sat back down, seemingly glad to be out of everybody's attention. Then the Abbot, who had stood through the otter's testimony, cleared his throat, his mind wandering back to the tapestry.

"Yes, this is why we have come. Now that you know the backstory, we can move on. The reason that you have been called here today is because we have taken the kit inside out walls. I personally see no reason not to let him stay. But, as Abbot, I must be fair and allow a meeting like this to take place. So, what are your thoughts on this subject?"

Sister Alma cleared her throat, a high pitched, almost girly, sound, and stood up. She gave a small, almost I-know-more-than-you glance to everybody, and spoke.

"Well, I don't support this decision. He's a fox! Foxes are usually known to be the most cunning of vermin, how do we know his parents haven't planted some hidden command in his mind or some-"

Skipper jumped up out of his chair and glared at the mouse, who seemed shaken at this outburst.

"Yer paranoid! I meself saw the kit, it ain't old enough ter eat by itself, let alone be a weapon! I second the Abbot's decision. Redwall is known fer it's generosity at letting anyone who needed a 'ome stay 'ere."

The otters behind him echoed an agreement. As everyone had stated their opinions, all eyes turned on Rosemary. She was sitting back in her chair, her paws about an inch apart and her fingers touching together. Once everyone had quieted down, she stood up, once again barely moving, and spoke her mind.

"In my opinion, I agree with Abbot Song. Though I have not as of this time seen the kit, I have been assured that it is just that, a kit. It isn't old enough to mean us, or cause us any harm."

The Abbot smiled, and quickly changed it to an official look, speaking the closing of the meeting.

"Well, it would seem the majority of this council agrees to keep the fox. We shall, of course, have to see how he turns out as he grows up, but for now, nobody is to harm him because of his race. This meeting is adjourned."

Skipper, Rudd, and Plank left immediantly, a smug look on the leader's face while the other two wore unreadable expressions. Then Alma left, muttering a final comment as she left.

"You will regret this. If what I know is true, you will regret this."

And finally, all that was left in the room was the Abbot and Rosemary. She looked to him, smiled warmly, and started walking toward the door.

"Good luck with the kit, Father Abbot. I am glad my support could be used to your favor."

And then she was gone. That was how she worked, showing up, doing as much as had to be done to get somebody somewhere, then leaving them to the assignment themselves. The Abbot shook his head and, with a final look at the walls, left the room, going to see the baby and 'tell him the good news.'